


Waiting for the calm after the storm

by RosevalleyNB



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Deceit, Drama, F/M, No War- AU, Potions, Separations, Slow Burn, Stalking, Supposed Infidelity, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-03 01:36:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4081516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosevalleyNB/pseuds/RosevalleyNB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world of magic and potions, one should never trust their own eyes. Especially, when someone is out to ruin your happiness. Katie and Marcus find out the hard way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for the calm after the storm

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I'm saving up to buy the rights to Harry Potter. Until then, it all belongs to JK Rowling and Co. In the meantime, I'll entertain myself with torturing the characters Jo has created.

He pushed her hard up the brick wall in the shadowy alley, not caring whether he hurt her or not, and crashed his mouths onto hers, sucking and biting. Diagon Alley, busy with visitors this time of day, was just a few feet away from them. The possibility of getting caught added, even more, excitement to their illicit tryst. In fact, getting caught was their sole purpose today. Getting off in the process was just a bonus.

She bucked her hips against his, willing him to move to give her what he had teased her with for so long. The first two buttons of her blouse had come undone, offering him a glimpse of a red lace bra. Fuelled by the sight, his mouth travelled from her lips down her throat to the curves of her firm breasts. His hand hiked up the hem of her skirt, fingers tracing the lines of the garter belt resting on her skin. 

The woman let out a moan when he sneaked his fingers inside her flimsy knickers, ghosting along her wet slit. She threw her head back as a low guttural moan escaped from her plump red lips. When he wanted to withdraw, she grabbed his wrist, forcing his hand to stay where it was and give her proper fingerfuck.

Oh, how he wanted to, but he wouldn’t. Today was just a teaser for what was to come. He cupped her mound roughly to give her some pressure and buried his face between her breasts again. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the shutter of a camera go off. For the fun of it, he draped the woman’s leg over his hip and tugged her knickers down for everyone to see. It needed to look good, after all.

“Say my name,” he whispered in her ear and bit the lobe as he simultaneously squeezed her round arse. He could hardly wait to pound that. Oh, Merlin, he was going to one day, rough and hard until she begged him to stop.

“Fred,” she whispered huskily.

“Louder, they can’t hear you.” He smacked her bared thigh to put more heat behind his words. The hiss of pleasure from her was music to his ears. He wanted, no needed, for people to hear her moan the name he had donned for today. The sooner the rumour mill started running, the better.

“Fred,” she repeated, much louder this time. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw the picture taking shadow disappear in the masses of Diagon Alley. When Fred was sure that the man had left, he reluctantly detangled himself from the woman. Hopefully, the bloke would keep his end of the bargain and have the photographs delivered within the hour.

“Hey,” she whined, “Not fair, I was just getting started.”

“We’ll have another go on Wednesday, Mrs Flint,” he replied, regret lacing his voice. His erection strained in his trousers, throbbing in eagerness to dip inside her. But their hour was almost up, and it wouldn’t be the same otherwise. He wanted their first fuck caught on film for others to see and one person in particular.

She rolled her eyes at the use of the name as she pulled up her knickers and straightened her clothes. Her lips were swollen and bruised and her usually well-kept hair was an utter mess. Where he had sucked and bitten, angry red spots welled up on the sensitive skin of her throat. He frowned at the sight. He needed to be more careful next time if he wanted his plan to succeed. Something as insignificant as bite could ruin everything.

“I need to get to the office, anyway. My dear husband is waiting for me.” She pecked his lips and then pulled his head back by his red flaming hair. “I’ll see you Wednesday night at eight at the Leaky, yeah?”

“Room three-ten. The pub should be nice and busy when you walk up,” he confirmed, cursing himself for his self-imposed restraint. He loved it when she got rough with him; it was an exhilarating addition to the sweetness and modesty associated with her. "Make sure Tom sees you and I'll make sure that he'll hear you."

"Challenge accepted, Fred." Katie let go, and when she was sure that she looked like herself again, she walked out the alley with swaying hips and without a glance back. 

Wednesday promised to be fun.

* * *

 

“Two drops of the potion and poof, it was gone,” she concluded before bursting out into a fit of giggles. She lay naked on the bed as she sipped from her overflowing cup of rum. Her long brown hair fell over her shoulders, covering her breasts and conveniently obscuring them from his lustful gaze.

The curtains to the room were open, allowing a clear view of what they were doing to anyone who wanted to see. In the building across from the Leaky, someone did, at least. A man was observing, he knew. He hoped that the private eye had rubbed one out while he was watching them earlier. It must get boring, after all, locked up all alone for hours.

But as it was, the man on the other side of the street didn't hold his attention as much as the woman on the bed. As naked as her and sweat still glistening on his body from their romp, he studied her every move from his chair. The waiting had been well worth it; she was as wild as she had promised, and then some. Still, he couldn't shake off the disappointment he felt; no matter how good of a fuck, she hadn't managed to fulfil his fantasies. Yet. They'd have to work on that.

“Why did you marry him, then?” he asked in a bored tone when she finished bemoaning Flint. Eager for wanting this part to be over without losing his mind, he took another big gulp of rum. 

His Katie laughed at the question and rolled onto her back to stretch out. “Why not? He has money, money and…wait, there is something else.” She tapped her chin, feigning to think hard. “Oh, yes, money. Come on, darling. Did you honestly believe that I fell for his charms or good looks?”

“You could've fooled me,” he mumbled sourly and looked away. He had waited years to hear her say that, but it still wasn’t the same. Nothing ever was.

“Are you jealous?” she asked teasingly. When no answer came, she stood up with a sigh and walked over to him. “Are you jealous, _Cormac_?”

He didn’t look at her face, only stared at her glorious breasts, full and round with dark brown nipples that seemed to look right at him. His enjoyment diminished when the fine silver lines on her pale skin caught his attention. Why hadn’t he noticed them earlier? He lowered his eyes to her stomach; the same faint vertical lines marred her skin there as well. Another reminder that she had borne Flint’s spawn a few months ago. A sudden rage filled him. It should have been his child; _she_ should have been his from the start.

“Go clean yourself. We're done for today,” he snapped. His earlier horniness had disappeared like snow in the sun at the sight of the stretch marks. When she didn’t move fast enough to his liking, he stood up and pushed her back. 

“Go wash up,” he hissed.

Stunned by his sudden mood change, her mouth opened and closed a few times without a sound coming out. Eventually, she hung her head like a scolded child and without further protest, disappeared into the small adjacent bathroom. As soon as she was out of sight, he closed the curtains; he didn’t need an audience for this part. 

It was time to harvest his memories before they became too clouded.

* * *

 

Besides them, the ladies room on the first floor of Flint Industries was empty, to his great disappointment. He had hoped on an audience for this part. The more, the merrier, in fact. His only consolation was that later, when they walked out together, the gossiping would start immediately. It was the ultimate betrayal, after all; the boss’ wife cheating on him right under his nose. A shuddered breath escaped him, and he nearly sank to his knees when Katie rolled his balls in her palm and sucked on the sensitive skin of his sack.

Right, he had a job to do. Today, he was the one taking pictures as an early Valentine's gift for the husband. Today, his name was Lee Jordan, the lucky sod receiving the best oral of his life. Courtesy of Marcus Flint’s wife. There was no better way to start the day, in his opinion. He could wake up to this every morning for the rest of his life without complaint. With a bit of luck, he’d get to fulfil that wish soon.

“Look up,” he ordered hoarsely. Her head bopping between his legs, the sucking sounds she was making and her hot mouth around his cock; it was all too much. It took all of his self-control not to release his load then and there.

When she did as ordered -her big brown eyes full of innocence and her mouth overflowing with his hard brown cock, he took the first shot. The flash made the shiny trace of her saliva mixed with his precum on her chin visible. Her red lipstick had smeared around her mouth and on his shaft. The sight obliterated the last shards of discipline he had left.

He took a few more pictures in rapid succession, making sure that the Flint crest on the stall doors was visible behind her, and then gave up. He closed his eyes and threw his head back against the wall as his fingers knotted in her hair, firmly guiding her movements. All he could do for now was to enjoy was his Katie was giving him.

He could only hope that when the time came, the real thing would be even better than this.

* * *

 

“Shaw came to see him today,” she said casually and took a sip from her hot tea.

“Already?” He leant over the table as he waited for more. When his Katie stayed quiet, he pulled back with a huff. “I would have expected him to wait another few days, collect more evidence and all. Do you think he has enough to convince Flint?”

“Why should I care?” she said with a shrug as her eyes nervously darted around.

The Prancing Pixie was chock-full this afternoon, and it felt as if every eye in the room was on her. It was the first time that they were out in the open like this, and she expected the heavens to fall on them at any moment. From the corner of her eye, she could see Rita Skeeter rapidly dictating to her Quick-Quotes Quill, and not so discreetly taking pictures. With a bit of -bad- luck, they’d make the front page of the Prophet's evening edition and ignite a real shitstorm.

“Why should you not care, love? If Shaw manages to convince him, it will be the end for us. Wouldn’t you miss me? Miss the excitement of being...naughty?”

“I’ll survive,” she lied and busied herself with the sugar pot. The many eyes on them were getting on her nerves.

“Whatever you say, Princess.” He caressed her hand resting on the table to ensure that everything looked believable until the very end. If he had to be honest, he was going to miss her and all the things she let him do to her.

He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what her problem was. Expressions of guilt and regret took turns flashing across her face. When did she develop a conscience?

“I can see you thinking over there.” Today, he was Oliver Wood, Puddlemere United Captain and the thorn in Flint’s side since their first year at Hogwarts. It was an opportunity too good to pass. He took her hand and placed a gentle kiss on her fingers, staring deep into her eyes. Gods, he could drown in those dark depths. “Don’t worry that pretty head of yours; it’ll take away from the fun.”

As expected, several of the people who had been eyeing them warily earlier, began their hushed whispers and not so discrete pointing. Just to add more fuel to the fire, he beckoned her for a kiss. At a table behind her, Graham Montague was turning an unhealthy shade of purple and was practically foaming at the mouth. Oliver winked at him; having the troll’s cousin here was the icing on his cake.

“I’ve had enough fun, thank you very much.” Still, despite her snappish tone, she leant over to collect her kiss. It would be their last for the time being. She wanted to cherish the moment.

After today, all she could was to sit back and watch the drama unfold.


End file.
